


New Desk

by iwishiwasreal



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), SPECTRE (2015), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: A little fluffy i guess?, M/M, Office Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Q's Name
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-10-27
Packaged: 2018-04-28 11:42:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5089439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwishiwasreal/pseuds/iwishiwasreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q gets a new desk. James offers to help him try it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Desk

It was quite lovely, really, his new desk. Lovely, but rather plain. It had a smooth light tan surface with sturdy gunmetal-grey legs, and several drawers with grey handles that Q had already labelled with, "Blueprints," "Paperwork," and, "Personal."

It was the exact thing he needed.

It stood in his private office in front of his chair, in the centre of the room. Already he had set up his usual things on it's pristine surface: a laptop for work, a lamp for those nights he worked tirelessly until the small hours, a small digital clock, a telephone for calling other branches or being called by other branches, and a coaster for his tea or coffee, though currently empty. There were no picture frames, nor was there any reason for there to be any. The only person he loved swanned in and out whenever he wished like he was the bloody Queen of England.

Just as Q was arranging his pot of pencils and pens to place next to his lamp, his office door swung open and the man himself stepped in, confident and cool. Also careless, but that was beside the point.

"So," said Bond, "New desk, I hear." He shut the door behind him, and approached the sturdy office-ware, knocking on it with his fist.  
"Who's been talking about my desk?" Q asked, raising his eyebrows, before looking back to the pencils in his hand.  
"Nobody, really...M pointed it out just as I left his office..." he paused for a moment, as if thinking. "Want to try it out?"  
"You," Q sighed, putting the pot down as he stood from his chair, "have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to turn up and say that."

He unlooped his belt whilst James drew the bolt across the office door in a feeble attempt at lowering the chances of scaring people in Q-branch. After all, walking in on their superior and a double-oh was hardly going to help the new employees settle into the workplace.

Q closed his laptop and put it in a drawer, before crossing the room briskly and pulling the agent towards him, unbuttoning the older man's black suit trousers. All the while he stepped backwards until his backside came into contact with the desk. Pressing against him, Bond kissed his mouth, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. Q groaned, pushing his hips forward to meet James'.

"Mm. Q." His voice was breathy and gravelly, coming from his chest.  
"Sh, sh," Q silenced him, "I want you to take me from behind."  
Bond all but growled as he put his hands on Q's hips and turned him around to face the desk.

Q unbuttoned his own trousers, allowing James to pull them to the floor, and his boxers also. He lifted a hand to run over Q's round backside. Q reached over and opened his "personal" drawer, withdrawing a bottle of lubricant and a condom, passing them back to Bond.

James scoffed, pausing again. "Really? You keep it there?"  
Q looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, wriggling his arse impatiently. "Get on with it, 007!"  
"Fine, fine..."

He uncapped it and shook a good amount into his palm, coating a finger and pressing it into Q's arse, past rings of tight muscle. The quartermaster groaned as he crooked his finger, and pushed his backside against the agents hand, prompting him to put another finger inside him, fucking him slowly with the two digits. Q's breathing picked up as the agent loosened him as quickly as he could. 

Finally, after what seemed an age, James deemed him ready, and Q bit his lip in anticipation as he heard James open the condom wrapper. "Ready?"  
"Bloody hell, yes!" 

James' cock was hot and thick as he sheathed himself inside, and Q let out a whine as he was finally filled and stretched, the feeling beautiful after being emptied of James' fingers. His hands gripped the far side of the desk as Bond moved slowly, grunting in his ear.

In minutes the desk was creaking under their combined weight, the pencil pot spilling onto the floor as Q let out a series of cries of, "Yes! Oh, god, yes. Yes. Yes!" James fucked him faster and harder, aiming for his prostate, all the while groaning and grunting and getting closer and closer, beginning to work Q's cock in time with his sharp thrusts.

Q came with a cry that sounded like his name, and Bond followed soon after with a grunt and a breathy, "Q!" 

After pulling out and disposing of the condom, James returned and buried his face into the quartermaster's sweaty hair, inhaling deeply, before he realised the younger man was shaking with silent laughter. The agent pressed a kiss to his neck. "What's so funny?"  
Q turned to face him, grinning and straightening his spectacles. "You do realise that isn't my real name, don't you James?"  
"What?"  
"Q."  
James was puzzled. "Yes. Why, did I really say that?"  
"You did, yes. Again."  
Kissing him gently on the nose, he smiled. "I don't know your real name."  
"True."  
"Well, then. Am I forgiven?"

Q smiled, sitting on the desk. "Call me Ed. Short for Edmund. And yes, James. You're always forgiven."

**Author's Note:**

> No basis towards why I think Q's name is Edmund, I just liked it.
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


End file.
